Fork in the Road
by ibuberu
Summary: She stumbles and he marches, they meander somewhere in between. — GreenBlue.


**World – **Manga**  
Characters** – Green, Blue, mentions of Silver/Chuck/Red  
**Pairings** – Green/Blue (Oldrivalshipping)  
**Genres** – General, Romance  
**Note(s)** – _(Request #10) _Green is the male, Blue is the female kk? This is another one of my favourites of this request batch, though story/plot-wise, I think I could've done better.  
**Disclaimer **– Roar, no.

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**Fork in the Road.**

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She stumbles, he marches – they happen to meet at a crossroad.  
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Her balance was off for most of her childhood, her cinnamon hair being the only part of her that wasn't subjected to change after her abduction. The cry of a godly avian echoed repetitively in her aching ears, and she couldn't tell which way was right, and whether a left even existed – she wandered and groped around with hands that were heavy and rough. The days where they could hold a parent's hand and dance with porcelain dolls were far gone, buried beyond an untouchable horizon.

Her eyes, once the crown jewel of her smooth face, were hidden behind the thick, burdening presence of a chalk white mask. It was a sinister tool that took on many disturbing forms – a scar on her countenance, a stinging chain that constricted her movement, a revolting guise of someone she never wanted to be.

Gradually, she took everything in the largest stride possible, she learned to hold back tears, developed a habit to play and tease with a perfect façade. She observed from the corners of her hidden eyes, she kept her disgust and trepidation snug in the grimace under her mask. The girl made notes in secrecy, with the help of a young, dear companion, she taught herself, and him, how to survive. Nothing else came before survival, she would tell him intently, her voice barely that of a nine-year old. That was why it was important to build up one's defences with an act, a joke and possibly a lie. Because that was the only way they would ever make it in the reality that they were suffering from.

She held the young boy's hand and led in their planned escape – for once, knowing where to turn and what would happen. The feel of the night air caressing her open face as she charged down the cold, once menacing, corridors of the five-year jail was exhilarating. Running and running and never stopping – escaping fate and defying what was destined. The palpitation of her heart and the sheer euphoria pumping through her veinsmade her spirits soar dynamically. The only whit of logic her brain screamed over and over again _'No, no, no, this is wrong! This is madness!' _but she paid little heed. She left her broken mask in the middle of a dark hallway, smashed into gleeful pieces and cracked with frustration and victory.

When she finally confirmed the getaway as a success, the remnants of a fragmented past were far behind and left in triumphant dust. She took the sensation of freedom in deep, grateful gulps of air and placed a thankful hand on the redhead slumped at her side. The bubble and pop of her first win raged in her heaving chest as she started to think about her life from now on. Undecided, open to traverse all directions, the lack of a mask to hide her face from the world – then… her feelings simmered and her mind halted as it faded to a white blank.

Her eyes widened, and she took a sharp intake of breath. Silver touched her shoulder in worry.  
_  
Where could she go now?_

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His stance was firm and unbendable; it had been decided ever since he was in attendance at kindergarten. From his ginger hair, striking eyes and the stunning pendant hanging from his neck, everyone gained the ability to recognize him as the professor's grandson. Not by his given name, but more so by a title that was unnoticeably thrust upon him and his birdlike shoulders. He creased his brow and tried not to cry – men didn't cry. He wasn't about to stay in a quiet town and be honoured as an unnamed relative of the professor. He was going to be a man and make a name for himself. He focused on that target, and never once deviated. Because his goal was in sight – just painfully far away.

His eyes developed a habit in staring with disinterest and unimpress. They retained a minimal amount of emotions, because no one was allowed to see his uncertainty and doubt. He used them well on his way to a master in Cianwood – driving away bothersome strangers and already, the first bricks of a wall that was his affirmation as a singular individual on the map of the world.

When he ended his brief journey on the road and entered the famed dojo of Cianwood, he was greeted unnecessarily. A flabbergasted expression took over his startled face and showed the unpredicted indignation with a gaping mouth and an angry glare. He surfaced from a large pot of bigger volume than his six-year old body, his favourite clothes drenched and his mouth tasting the distasteful salt laced in the seawater. He sucked in his pride and swallowed it with much needed effort as he was hoisted out of the water and came face to face with the lead instructor of the training school.

He yelled and kicked, because he was not supposed to be treated like a kid. He was supposed to be respected. But as the shirtless man regarded him with a bellow and a stare that seemed to be built upon layers of steel and gunpowder, his agitation drifted, and was unmistakably replaced with awe and amazement. The instructor was treating him like a normal child – an incapable student who would be addressed as equally, or in this case, as harshly, as any other person who attended the academy. His heart came to a standstill for a moment or so, as he bore his gaze into the man and his strength and character. He wanted to become like the adult, to train his Pokémon with adept skill and be able to command respect and attention with indescribable ease.

And train he did, battling alongside his Pokémon and learning things that affected his mind and moved his heart. He remained diligent and studious under his mentor, sweating profusely day after day, and getting bruises and bumps everywhere. It was a paining experience, something hard to withstand. But somehow, he made it through. And when he was finally ready, standing at the doors of the academy with his bag slung over his sturdy, no longer birdish, shoulder, he craned his neck up to the man who still towered over him. Except this time, he was regarded with an encouraging smile and folded arms. He licked his lips, and held down the desire to return the smile with one of his own. He thought about how, now, he held the capability to nurture and assemble a strong team of Pokémon, and rise to become a revered trainer. He thought about the sweat, blood and unshed tears. About the hardships and the sacrifices he would have to make, and whether that was all meaning there was to his life.

His jaw slackened, and he lowered his eyes. Chuck rubbed his head of spiky brown.

_Was it going to be like this for the rest of his life?_

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She didn't know which way to start going, but she walked forth anyway, leaping headlong into the jaws of the undetermined future. Guided by a simple wish to live for herself – she did the only thing she remembered that she liked. She feigned, bartered and stole, with every successful escape from the claws of the law and justice; she fed and quelled her insatiable hunger for a thrilling life. By no means was she satisfied – she had ample knowledge of the severe crimes she committed, but once again, survival was what placed before her morale and everything else.

She questioned herself why she had bothered to help out the two boys during the Team Rocket takeover in Saffron. They weren't important to her, they weren't Silver. She would get nothing from aiding them, what she required was details on the legendary birds in order to exact her revenge. But she lent a gloved and dainty hand to the Pokémon trainers from Pallet Town either way, fighting and wiggling her way out of a battle with a psychotic woman.

Perhaps it was because of the boy on the Charizard. When she called out to him in flirty, bubbly greeting – he blatantly ignored her, his eyes piercing and unhappy. She allowed herself to experience shock and disgruntle, and trailed secretly behind the boy as they barged in through the force field and scampered around the streets of the city. She observed and scrutinized how he ran straight forward, his back refusing to turn in dilemma and his footsteps never slowing. He knew where he was going, and he charged without hesitation. She stared and drank in the inspiration of the scene.

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He was sure and confirmed in his decision, walking strictly in the direction he had decided, into a future that was already laden out and planned precisely. He had only one thing on his mind – to make a name for himself. He battled, learned and trained, with every victory from a naïve trainer; he fuelled the dying spirit in his bones. His hands and feet ached, and he was almost suspecting that his life was not meant to turn out this way. There had to be more to life than pursuing a childhood dream, but he could think of nothing, and so, he continued barrelling forth.

He found himself wandering away from his intended ambition upon returning to Kanto, meeting a boy and his Poliwag and getting caught up in too much in too little time. And for the first instance in his life, he could not afford to think about just himself, he had to consider another's position – help them, instead of just caring for his own gain. He sidetracked nearly willingly, and played a part in a team instead of a solo operation.

An unprecedented abnormality caused his attention to wander and his eyes to leave the road he was supposed to be concentrating on – a girl. It was a young female, his age, with rare eyes, a sugary voice and a smile that could move mountains. When she wasn't paying attention, he sneaked a curious glance, seeing deeper and noticing that everything about her was, essentially, artificial. Her smile was forced, her eyes only containing imitated happiness, and her voice was coated with thick deceptiveness. He flexed his fingers involuntarily and glanced for a while longer than he had expected, seemingly glued to her believable act and what was hiding underneath that mask of her face.

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He became a gym leader and garnered status; she caught three legendary birds and overcame her fear.

She chased after him and he tried not to care. Except that it was so obvious that she needed support and help and guidance. His hands itched to take her wrist and shatter her annoying barriers to uncover and rescue the girl trapped underneath it all. She read him as easily as he did her, smirking as she spotted subtle stiffness and spread cracks on his armoured demeanour. She teasingly hugged him as she latched onto his arm, thinking foolishly that he would melt as easily as the other members of the male population.

She was happy to be wrong.

He was irritated to be deterred from his plans, because a girl's presence was not meant to affect him. He was inwardly bewildered when he realised that she was genuinely taking a shine to him. She couldn't be classified with the assorted gang of air-headed girls who worshipped him with idiocy reflected in their eyes and their mouths gaping open. She wasn't falling gracelessly head over heels for his title as gym leader, neither was she only concerned about his appearance. She was in a class of her own.

He hated to come to terms with the fact that he was getting used to her company as well. She tried all means to get him to show an emotion apart from annoyance and stoicism, taunting him and playing practical jokes on unsuspecting passer-bys. All of that didn't work, but then – she thanked him for bearing with her and helping her during every crisis that happened upon them. She regarded him with apologetic eyes and a hint of sincerity in her words. Something unguided and prideful tugged at the corners of his lips.

He never smiled at someone like that before.

And even if it was for a millisecond, she saw it.

And she smiled truthfully in return, abandoning her false face for that precious moment.

With every trick she threw, he dodged and sidestepped handsomely. With every sneer and deadpan he exhibited, she recovered and immuned herself alluringly. They were locked in mortal combat, desperate but not showing, wanting but not yielding. She pricked and prodded, he rolled his eyes. She was having too much fun, and he didn't want to admit that he was enjoying her company. Weaknesses were wrapped, folded and burnt. Fingers stroked, lips brushed, the first one to falter from the sizzling touch was the loser.

They tangoed, they waltzed, and maybe some other obscure dance styles were included in the galvanizing rush. But they were mesmerized and captivated all the same; meandering away from paths they had carved using their sore feet. They were searching and discovering without understanding why. And they each found something otherwise unobtainable, had they gone on any separate road.

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She sees a green signpost, he stops to smell a blue flower – they leave together, hand in hand.

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**end.**


End file.
